


Ve'einei Achoti Pkuchot

by persephone_il (the_ragnarok), the_ragnarok



Category: Weiss Kreuz
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-10-20
Updated: 2003-10-20
Packaged: 2017-10-16 01:39:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/pseuds/persephone_il, https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ragnarok/pseuds/the_ragnarok
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had been his sister's demon before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ve'einei Achoti Pkuchot

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks to Patti for beta duty.

He climbs from the ruins, and all his thoughts are of her.

This is a state of mind he knows so well. He always cherishes this familiarity, the one comfortable hum in the back of his head, silent and louder than the explosion that still echoes in his ears.

It says: You have to live for her sake.

From the beginning, it was so. When his - their - parents died, and he was trapped by a burning piece of debris, and he had to watch his sister bleeding slowly into the ground, had to smell burning-flesh-scented air coming from what had been his - their - home.

And then came the firefighters, and the police. They cut him free and took him to the hospital, and there gave him everything that was left of his life in one little pitiful package.

Your parents are dead criminals, they told him. Your house was destroyed. Your sister is still alive, but you might as well pull the plug now, kill her to save some other little girl. The insurance money will either keep her alive or get you through school, but not both.

In the package, among his father's belonging, 18-year-old Ran had found the katana his father hung on his office wall. It was a genuine thing, an heirloom, and for days Ran had to keep it hidden to stop himself from doing the honorable thing and following his family.

He couldn't do that, after all. Not while Aya (his Aya, Ran's mind whispered, the one he protected from bullies at school and from everyone else outside it) was still breathing. And God help anyone who wanted the blessed, blissful sound of her drawing one breath after another stopped. Not for any other girl. For Ran, there *were* no other girls.

He sat by her bed. Sang to her, of all the foolish, meaningless things to do. Close your eyes, Sister, he sang. It wasn't as if she ever did what he asked her to. Was it too much to have her disobey him one more time, for old time's sake?

From that evening, his life was two things. There was the chase, making sure that those who had turned his life into a smoldering wreck would suffer, and there was Aya. He took her name and her earring so that no one looking at him would mistake him for something other than what he was.

A man, his grandfather had said to him, is not a man if he breaks his promises. And if a man if not a man, he might as well be dead.

Ran had listened, had taken it to heart... Had remembered. And when his sister was five, he told her, You are mine, and I promise I'll never let anything happen to you.

Silly big brother, she called him, and kissed his cheek, and ran away.

But it was a promise, nonetheless. Broken was broken, after all.

Distantly, he hears his teammates behind him. Yohji and Omi leaning on each other, Ken scrambling at the back. He has been wary, always distant. The last thing he wanted was for them to trust him - *him*, who couldn't even take care of his own little sister.

He thinks of her fragile body, lying on white linen sheets, and it's all he can do not to plunge back into the flames to personally slaughter those pigs who dared- who dared so much as touch her *hair*-

He stands still, fingernails digging into his palms. His jaw is clenched tight, and he savagely wishes for someone to kill.

He had been Aya's demon, before. They'd moved into a new house when she was three, and every night, she'd cry. I want to sleep in my bed, she'd say, and never mind how many times Ran promised her that this *was* her bed, she wouldn't believe him.

You're lying, she said. You're not really my brother. You're a demon and you stole my brother away and you'll steal me away, too.

It came to be that he couldn't stand it. The sound of her crying was like a wasp buzzing inside his head, never finding its way out. One night, he was so distraught that he leaned over her and growled, I am a demon, a terrible demon, and I will eat your flesh and drink your blood like I did your brother's.

She had looked at him for a moment with huge, stunned eyes. Then, of all things, she started laughing.

Silly big brother, she said. Since then, he had never seen her cry. She was unhappy, sometimes, but when she was, he would growl and promise to seek out those who hurt her and eat them alive. Then she would laugh and hug him and the world would become, in less than a minute, a better place.

For now, even the memory of her laughter, though it had grown faint and ragged with years and use, is enough to calm him... At least, enough so he can see something that isn't the red mist he's so accustomed to.

Enough so he sees two small bodies on the top of the hill, strewn over the grass.

He must have run. He can't imagine getting there so quickly by walking.

Two small bodies, so much alike. Both of them draped in white linen, each clasping the other's hands. They would be looking into each other's faces, if their eyes weren't closed.

He kneels by them and thinks, stupefied, is this a test? He thinks of the classic legends he was taught. But the memories are smeared and vague, and all he can remember is one image, drawn in a textbook. Of a man, looking over his shoulder and reaching, while a woman was beginning to fade behind him.

Not now, he thinks frantically. Please, God, if you have any mercy at all, not now, after all she's been through. She's so small, so good. She's never even had the chance to be unkind in her life. Can't you be kind to her?

But no, she isn't dead, neither of them is. They're both breathing softly, and something about the sound makes the ice in him thaw, ever so slightly. Sakura must have fallen asleep, he realizes. It had taken a long time for Weiss to carve their way out of the wreckage, and she had had such a day that he can't even find it in him to feel angry at her for falling asleep when she should have been guarding his sister.

There must be someone at his back, several someones, but they weren't a threat so he doesn't care. No words of theirs can be a match to the simple, glorious sound of his little sister taking in one breath after the other.

So close together, it's simple to tell them apart. Sakura is a good girl, he thinks, absently. She doesn't deserve what she's been through. But she's not his concern, his guilt for her aside.

Aya...

He lays a hand on her shoulder and, roughly, he sings. Sleep, Sister, sleep.

When she stirs, he thinks he must have made some mistake after all, but how could he? He knows his sister's eyes as they open to see him, unblinking.

Silly big brother, she whispers, and doesn't seem to mind his tears landing on her face at all.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is Hebrew for 'and my sister's eyes are open'. It's from a somewhat creepy poem that fits Aya and Aya-chan to a T.


End file.
